thesagarikawrites

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Stormborn��.Medico.Paddling poetries on paperboats. Wordaddict @shubhamlive is mine ❤ Instagram: @thesagarikawrites

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  • thesagarikawrites 76w

    Whom are you trying to fool?

    To stop communicating means stopping it totally, means their existence or inexistence should not illicit a response in you. You are only fooling yourself if you are mentally still stating things you should have said to someone you are not in "physical talking terms" now, every single day. It seems like you are talking to yourself but the object of your talk has a definite shape and it has permanently become a source of your mental talking, like a loop you cannot get yourself out of. Your brain is not a fool. It knows everything subconsciously that you are trying to cover. You block people from one account to satisfy your defensive ego but you still keep checking what are they doing from another id. This is how you think you can fool your own mind but your paradigm is clearly aware of the frequency you are giving to things that you pretend to restrict your access from but still manage to stalk and mentally react to. You are caught in this unending loop of restricted access and willingness to sneak. Human mind is a truck load of contradictions until it is aware of the importance of synchronisation between your mind and body. If either of the two is out of tune, you need to figure it out. What's the use of blocking someone if you mentally haven't stopped making conversations with them? It's not doing harming them, trust me. It's sapping your energy because you are still collecting information you pretended to not know anymore. You are still mentally responding to the information you are sneaking from them. This cycle of brooding and internal reactions keeps on manifesting a similar outcome in your life, again and again. You now know what you need to change to change your paradigm. Yourself. - Sagarika, Fool's Gold.

  • thesagarikawrites 106w

    What's up Mirakee? It's been a long time.
    I just came back to check how's everything here.

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  • thesagarikawrites 121w

    I'm not lying if I say that most of us aren't looking for best wishes and all the luck in our favour but someone to just say that bad days are normal to happen. We aren't looking for attention but considerable feeling of being understood. We aren't looking for good clothes but a place to fit. We aren't looking for anticipated tomorrows but last minute acceptances. We aren't looking for compatibility but to embrace disagreements like family. We aren't looking for more like us but just someone to say it once that "it's not just you." We aren't looking for a community but carnivals where colours come in all kinds of skin. We aren't looking for fair skinned dreams but brownie points and diamonds in all shades of mine. We aren't looking for perfection but premieres about flaws, that flaws happen to all. We aren't looking for compliments but company. We aren't looking for relatives to come and bless a life full of roses but bystanders to just come and ask if someone's making us uncomfortable. Trust me, it's not vitamins, youngsters are deprived of warm "hello, are you fine?" ©Sagarika��, Parallel reality.

    @writersnetwork #love #travel #nature #life #inspiration #friendship #poetry #thoughts #diary

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    ©thesagarikawrites

  • thesagarikawrites 123w

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  • thesagarikawrites 123w

    Too Strong

    I don't know if it's weird but when someone asks me where am I from or who I am, I take a moment to reply to because I am still contemplating if am really at a place or really a person I used to be. The place isn't the same anymore neither is me. I don't even know which part of myself lives where I live now and which part is still sabotaged somewhere else. I have lived partly here and there, and everywhere, partly haven't lived at all. I'm from the city my forgotten and torn birth certificate talks about but I know nothing about the places in it. They often ask me, "Why don't you talk?" "Why don't you reply?" because "no one is busy the entire day". That I always leave messages seen and overlooked, that I don't pay attention to what was being sent, that I don't care anymore. Trust me, I pay attention to everything anyone sends me, I read and reread things. I write things, a lot of them and I can write a book on anything and everything too with the sorta imagery and an overflow of abundant emotions all the time but now, I can only write, I can no more "say". I don't know what to say, what to reply because at the back of my head I know I feel nothing. It's like I have been shutoff since years like Tarzan in the jungles away from the buzzing citylife. There's a hollow, a big one, straight through my heart and all that passes through it is silence. It doesn't even feel heavy, it's just silent, a part of me that is functionless. I laugh a lot, you know, a lot more than others because I hate to let the echoes of others laughing at me, buzz my ears. I make so much noise so that I hear nothing. I don't know what to reply, when to reply, how to reply because when I did, every paragraph, I wrote for them, about how much I needed them then, no one listened. I wasn't writing then, I was "saying", "telling" , "explaining" and "feeling" everything they wanted me to. I felt too much of what I could feel for the world. Now, it's just papers and papers to feel in my hands. I had a lot to talk about then, about things I hadn't done, about things I barely knew what they meant other than cold faces. I just needed to be heard, once and after that I just wanted to ask "why?" "why me?" All that I remained, were questions. Then slowly questions faded, so did I. I was very talkative guys. You should have met me before. I promise I'd have been a better company unlike now, when I suck at interactions because I push people away like places push away passengers from residents.
    Of course, no-one is busy the entire day. I work for a fourteen, the maximum but I don't feel idle. I feel occupied all the time. Sometimes I just sit and listen to music the entire day, on holidays. I know it takes a minute to respond. I have known this more than you, ever since but I have forgotten to converse. It just costed few seconds I know then, to just ask me, once, how was I? I was dying to answer then how terrible I was. I was dying to answer, many times and wanted to keep telling, "don't do this please, I barely know what your grudges are because friends never hold grudges." I swear I would have forgiven everyone if I deserved all of that. Even if I didn't, I just loved to forgive then. I just needed a response back then to not feel so aversed towards talks now, to feel a bit of my older self which I don't. I'm just too strong now.

    Now, if anyone asks "how's you?" I just smile because I am not dying to answer.

    ©Sagarika, Too strong to fall back
    ©thesagarikawrites

  • thesagarikawrites 124w

    World Hindi Day

    "main nam hokar
    thoda kam ho gya,
    bas zyada kuch nahin,
    vo sochte hain thoda haskar,
    main gam kho gya,
    bas zyada kuch nahin.
    pal bhar jeekar pura,
    main sadiyon ka adhura ho gya,
    bas zyada kuch nahin.
    main nam hokar
    thoda kam ho gya,
    bas zyada kuch nahin."
    ©Sagarika, World Hindi Day.

  • thesagarikawrites 125w

    It's hard to even fathom what the world does to people. It did catastrophes to me when I was a girl such that and so much that the woman; in me never returned. I came back in a uniform, I became a battalion, during the days I was learning the alphabet. The word "woman" went to war and trust me, the entire dictionary became homeless. I have valued everything nature created and that I would be nature itself when my womb would prosper. We plant a tree and say oxygen has been claimed then we kill a girl and say she was only a foetus. Not just a foetus, you killed a tree and all the seeds it could have given to this world. The world looks at me, with wide open eyes when I love and when I choose to marry the one I love because choices, perhaps, were never my forte. I don't blame my forefathers for carving my destiny with boundations but I do question my foremothers for letting them think they were capable of raising me. I was not a cattle. I wasn't to be raised but nurtured free. You never control the crops you cultivate, you only control the weeds. Ancestry is a weed. Revolution is the harvest. I wasn't a legacy, how could I be? How could I do what my grandmother did? How can my future daughter or son do what I have been doing? If I was born to do them, I'd have incarnated as them, their reborn-self and not a newborn. The people of the world think I can be easily taken over by being humiliated, slut-shamed and verbally ripped apart because I'm physically not capable of bearing any pain; more than that. I remember being told that when my mother screamed and clutched her fists right before giving birth to me, they asked what was born, the doctor said smiling, "it's the world."
    ©Sagarika��, It's the world.

    #pod @writersnetwork @mirakee #inspiration #thoughts #life #love #nature

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  • thesagarikawrites 128w

    And as you mature,
    you become aware of what you are turning into,
    for whatever it is, remember the bliss of loving someone,
    is far more satisfying than them loving you,
    because salvation comes from giving and not taking back.
    Home is made to give, so you give him a home,
    the place where no matter what happens in the outside world, he'd be welcomed,
    the place where you'd never retaliate his occasional corroded temper,
    the place that can just fit him and let him find a room for himself.

    Love, what I sensed in all these years and,
    what I discovered in my higher consciousness,
    is about being a mother to my man more than a lover,
    because he doesn't always need a body to explore,
    that he needs to feel he can be a kid to someone,
    outside his family because there, he might just be a big guy now,
    that more than a lover, he needs someone to fit him,
    with all his terrified temperament that women usually find hard to understand because they are so reproductive in their imagination,
    that he's not a woman and it's okay for him to be rational,
    that it's okay for him to not be romantic all the time,
    that it's completely normal for him to not make emojis and give football more importance than your calls that existed in his life much before you came in,
    because all that ever matters is him, and that he feels okay, that you understand his thoughts, his responsibilities towards his family,
    that he has his parents whom he cares for first and they deserve to be kept first because they brought him in this world,
    before loving him and claiming that you really do,
    you unconditionally love the people who sustained him in your absence.
    It's then, you do have loved someone, truly and there's nothing more beautiful than being there for someone who doesn't know how to be there for himself.
    ©Sagarika��, amidst the wants of a girl, a woman flourishes.

    @writersnetwork #nature #love #travel #life #inspiration #friendship #poetry #thoughts #diary

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    ©thesagarikawrites